


Soul Music

by ami_ven



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: mcsheplets, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 16:30:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2116863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Play something?” John asked softly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soul Music

**Author's Note:**

> written for LJ community "mcsheplets" prompt #023 "talents"

The longer they lived in the Pegasus Galaxy, the weirder it was to come back to Earth. 

Somehow, John always forgot how commercial it all was. Which was why a trip to the mall had seemed like a much better idea before they’d gotten there.

Actually, it had been Rodney’s idea. John would have thought he’d be the king of internet shopping, but apparently there were some things that had to be seen in person. It was fun at first— they both had pretty big chunks of unused pay, so money wasn’t an issue— but pretty soon the crowds began to get to John. He’d never liked them before and years in Pegasus, where large groups usually equaled Wraith cullings, hadn’t helped.

He was so busy trying not to think about all the tactical issues in the design of the food court that he almost missed the expression on Rodney’s face as they passed the hole-in-the-wall music store.

“Hey,” said John. “Let’s go in. I, um, need a new guitar string.”

“For the guitar you can’t play?” Rodney asked, but followed him into the store.

It was kind of dingy, with a wall of used trumpets and clarinets, a battered drum kit in the corner, and a scuffed upright piano just inside the door.

Rodney rested his fingers on the lid of the keyboard and closed his eyes.

“Play something?” John asked softly, but it only got him a glare.

“I don’t play,” Rodney snapped.

“But you _can_.”

He snorted. “Not according to my piano teacher. He said I was technically proficient but lacked any real soul. So, no thank you, Sheppard, I don’t really want to recreate that particular memory.”

“That guy was an idiot,” John said, flatly. “Rodney, I’ve seen you pull miracles out of thin air. I’ve seen you make ten-thousand-year-old broken machines _sing_. So don’t tell me you don’t have any soul.” 

He lowered his voice. “Play something?”

“I…” Rodney said, softly, then snapped open the lid of the piano. “Okay.”

He didn’t even need sheet music, just sat down and began to play. John had no idea what the piece was, something old and almost familiar, but every note seemed to hang in the air before it faded away. The last chord resonated for a long moment after he stopped playing, then there was silence.

“There,” said Rodney, staring down at the keys. “I told you—”

John didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he tried to talk. “Rodney,” he managed. “That was… It was beautiful.”

Rodney looked up at him. “Really?” he asked.

“Yes, really.”

“Oh,” said Rodney. He closed the lid of the piano, then asked, “There is a place to eat around here, right?”

“The food court’s right across from here,” said John.

He hoped their shopping wasn’t going to take much longer. He had some back-pay to spend and some authority to abuse if he was going to have a piano shipped to Atlantis on the next _Daedalus_ run.

THE END


End file.
